dew drop Sunday morning

This morning is the first I find myself in long sleeves.

Each morning as I stumble up the hill to let the chickens out the grass is heavier with dew than it was the previous morning.   I love the subtle changes that are happening each day.  The air feels fresh, the trees seem too tired to hold on to their shiny green leaves. 

The sunflowers are heavy and droopy after  astonishing us with their height. All that from a tiny little seed?

Maybe the up and coming winter will be long and gray, I’ll worry about that later.

For now there is too much work to do…just ask the chipmunks!

Happy Sunday to you!

lately

The weather lately has been beautiful.  The sky by midday reaches a blue that looks like it came straight from a Charles Wysocki puzzle. Then just as you think it would be nice if it rained so you don’t have to water the garden, it does.  Just enough, then the sun and blue reappear. 

I remember writing a post a year ago and telling you I was glad it was September. 

I’m glad again.

But really I can’t believe it’s been a year since  I typed those words.

I fell in love with zinnias this year.  I’ve always been a red-geranium-in-terra-cotta kind of girl.  But the zinnias offer so much with so little effort.

Can I help it if I like things with little effort?

Lately that doesn’t equate to many things.  Though the two oldest are away at school, it leaves me feeling like an empty nester with four at home. The first day of school was a unique one with phone calls from a homesick daughter and having an emotional first day kindergartener.  But now everything has lost its sharp edges and everyone seems to have reached that it’s not so bad level.  Even me.  I miss my boy Henry, but he’s happy in his little school and that makes me happy, too. The two hours he is gone is usually the baby’s nap time and the house is so quiet I can’t even believe it.

These September days will certainly go by fast.  I will try and appreciate all they have to offer…blooming flowers, the soft light of the sun, the burst of harvest the garden is giving.  It’s all good!

 

 

 

 

weeding thoughts

Today I stood facing our home and looked embarrassingly at the weeds that took over the front beds. 

It looked as someone overwhelmed with life lives here.

And that is true.

But I’m not ready to give in with being overwhelmed.

I don’t want to hide behind those massive clumps of grass that grow so firmly enmeshed in the roses.

In a drizzle bit of rain I started pulling weeds.  I did this until my hair was plastered to my head trying to swing about in sweaty clumps.  It turned into such a release of aggression for me, pulling those weeds.  I’m sure those driving by would say I looked like an angry weeder.

I’m not an angry person.  I can yell about dishes left out and a messy bathroom, but I don’t yell about my feelings.

I don’t yell when I get lonely, even though my house is always full of kids.

I don’t yell about looking at my baby and noticing he has Ken’s big toe.  Because I want to show him.

Everyday I do laundry, cook meals and nurse the baby.  Some days I do this with a smile and some days I do this while feeling like I can’t.  And lately those can’t days are too many.

Those comments you left on my last post are so dear and sweet to me.  They were so needed!  Thank you for that, from the bottom of my heart!

 

going more places with little bird

Everywhere I go my little bird comes, too.

For the most part he likes this and so do I.  I’m too embarrassed to tell you how many auctions and sales he has been to in his short 3 months.  His first was when he was 6 days old…it was a book and ephemera sale.  We didn’t buy anything that day but he was a big hit. 

Often I think about how he arrived so gently into our lives.  After a previous pregnancy ended with such drama, I still am in awe at that wonderful day 3 months ago.  I think it was one of the most beautiful days of my life. People remark at how it must be hard to have an infant with my husband away. Other than the obvious that he will miss these precious days of watching our child reach his first milestones, I am grateful to have a baby in the house.  He brings so much joy.

I’m not sure why I love having babies so much, they do turn into teenagers afterall.  But these early days? They are the most precious days.  Often when I go to pick Sawyer up from a nap I can’t believe I have a baby.  A baby!

Now go ahead and ask me how it is to care for all the other kids while Dad is away….

It’s so darn hard you’re lucky I’m not using swear words in this sentence!

 

 

 

the little things

Happiness is sending your child out to pick salad ingredients on a rainy summer day.

I love summer.

I love rain.

I love salad.

I love my child.

But not in that order.

a road less traveled

Last year my eight year old attended a little country school.  It was conveniently located near our home and we often walked the little country road that connected our house to her little school.

We watched the colors  change on this road, from green to red, orange and brown.  Then to the stark colors of winter. 

We did this until the colors turned back to green again.  We quickly became familiar with every detail of the road.  There’s an old cellar hole and a lonely old stone wall that weaves through the woods.

Her school was the second oldest school in NH opening in 1789.

They closed the school and now she will attend a much more modern school where the floors don’t creak and the radiators don’t hiss. I’m certain modern school are good, too, but most likely they won’t have a gym door the perfect shade of blue-green.  I loved this school, it sits atop a hill looking at all the big old houses that face it. 

In fact one of my favorite houses in this town recently went up for sale causing me to hyperventilate for three days straight.  It sits near the school, it is so big and regal but has a quiet beauty to it.

I think it’s around 400k. It’s so pretty with a brook and a pond and the circle driveway is perfect for tricycle riding.

Anyhow I shall tell you a little history lesson I stumbled upon while resting in the corner of the Brattle Book Shop.  I knew the school was named after Samuel Appleton but didn’t know much about him.  Then I came across the name Franny Appleton in an article about historic artwork.  I discovered they were related and I came home and spent way too much time researching instead of cleaning my house.  Is that bad?

Franny was Samuel’s niece.  She married Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. One day as she was sealing envelopes with wax she lit her dress on fire and Henry tried to save her but couldn’t.  He burned his face and that is why he grew that enormous beard.  It’s so tragic! Reading through historical stuff affects me so much, but at the same time I always want to know more.  No matter where we’ve lived the history of how people got there and what they went through never fails to be amazing.  There’s so much to learn!

summer days

 

Summer so far...

Days full of kids and activity and watering the garden. 

Posing the baby for pictures even if he doesn’t want to.

Enjoying the older girls before they head out.

Eating fresh foods on the porch.

Reading books outside.

Red Sox games.

Putting up food, check out this blog:  food in jars.

Trying to lose my baby weight but it’s hard b/c I like ice cream.

Black Cherry Vanilla, in case you are wondering.